Moon River
by Alicia Jennings
Summary: Hermione's had enough of sitting around, waiting for excitement to come her way. It's time to get out on her own and find life. Not quite R but might be in the future. WIP
1. Margaritas and dancing

Moon River  
  
-  
  
Chapter One  
  
-  
  
How did it get to this point? Hermione mused. When did she lose her social life?  
  
Hermione smoothed the hem of her just-above-the-knee pinstripe black skirt, contemplating. She  
  
looked quite Muggle-like in her blazer, skirt, and fitted button-down shirt. She self-consciously  
  
looked at her waistline. She was curvy and womanly at a size D bra and a dress size of 14. While  
  
her girlfriends always expressed jealousy over her well-endowed bosom, she looked on it as more  
  
of a hindrance - at twenty four, she already had back problems, and simple pain relief charms and  
  
potions couldn't always do the trick. Oftentimes, she had to pay a visit to the physician.  
  
She smiled inwardly. The last time she'd taken off clothing in the presence of a male was at the  
  
physician's, so he could rub a healing salve on her aching muscles.  
  
Of course, there had been a few before that. Just out of Hogwarts, she'd dated Ron for around a  
  
year. But they fought constantly while together, and, well...after one particularly big row one  
  
day, she sent him out of their apartment for good. He couldn't understand her drive to be  
  
successful on her own. His own upbringing told him he wanted a wife who would settle down  
  
and stay at home to raise children. Hermione couldn't be just a stay at home mum. She had to  
  
get out and be on her own. They were still friends, and she still was like family to the Weasleys.   
  
In fact, she often visited them on holidays before going home to her parents.  
  
Then there was a brief stint with a Muggle friend named Alan. But that hadn't lasted long enough  
  
to get past second base. He was much too boring.  
  
She sighed. She couldn't believe she hadn't had sex in...nearly six years. Not that sex with Ron  
  
was anything to sneeze at, much less relive memories over. She'd orgasmed perhaps twice while  
  
she'd been dating him. And they'd had sex a lot more than twice.  
  
Smoothing down frizzies that had escaped her French twist, she pondered. Maybe she should  
  
take up with a Muggle again. They weren't all bad, after all, she knew that for sure, since she was  
  
a Muggle born. She managed an agency that helped citizens of the magical community  
  
interconnect with the Muggle world, from business deals to finding long-lost Squib family  
  
members. Thus the Muggle clothing today - she'd been in London collecting data for the Bones  
  
family, doing genealogy research for their family tree.   
  
It was a good business. She was wildly successful, drawing in massive amounts of money in both  
  
wizard and Muggle forms. She'd gotten the idea to open it after her last year in Hogwarts. With  
  
Voldemort gone, more wizarding families were attempting to find Squib family members ousted  
  
during the dark years, now that there was no threat of them being killed off. She also handled  
  
adoptions, which were common occurrences - often, Muggle families with magical offspring  
  
wanted their children to grow up in the wizard world - and sometimes a magical child would show  
  
up in adoption agency records, borne by a single mother or orphaned, that would quickly be taken  
  
into the wizarding world as to avoid sticky situations.  
  
While she found gratification in her work, she still wanted something more. She wanted to be  
  
loved...she wanted to be needed...she even wanted kids.  
  
Maybe I should've stayed with Ron after all, she thought, slumping in her chair to rest her  
  
forehead on the edge of her desk. Then I wouldn't be here, I'd be happily at home with five kids.   
  
Then she thought of all the pain of child labor. Maybe not marrying Ron was a good idea.  
  
What is wrong with me today? She thought, banging her head on her desk. She needed a  
  
remedy, and she needed one quick. As she raised her head again to hit it against the oak wood,  
  
she caught sight of a Muggle newspaper. What the hell, she'd look through it and see if there  
  
were any good movies at the cinema.  
  
As she leafed through the newspaper, an ad caught her eye. "Moon River - the exciting new club  
  
for singles." She examined it closer. "Meet all sorts of great singles in the London area. Open  
  
Fridays through Sundays, 7pm to 4am."  
  
Hmm. Well, today was Friday. And to her knowledge, she had nothing to do from seven to four.  
  
Time to break out that great black below-the-knee length halter dress she'd worn in her cousin's  
  
wedding last year. She had just spent a good deal of money on a pair of shiny stilettos that would  
  
look great with it.   
  
A handsome, dark stranger sat at the bar inside Moon River and nursed a gin and tonic. He  
  
looked older...perhaps early forties. Age, however, had done nothing to take away from his  
  
appearance. In fact, it had done nothing except make him more handsome in a distinguished sort  
  
of way. In the background, faint music played, music from another time.  
  
"Moon river, wider than a mile  
  
I'm crossin' you in style some day  
  
Old dream maker, you heartbreaker  
  
Wherever you're goin', I'm goin' your way  
  
Two drifters, off to see the world  
  
There's such a lot of world to see  
  
We're after the same rainbow's end, waitin' 'round the bend  
  
My huckleberry friend, Moon River, and me..."  
  
He came to the bar hoping for anything. Long term relationship...one night stand...didn't matter.   
  
He just needed affection, and he needed it now. High stress level jobs over the years had deprived  
  
him of women's company, but now that he was retired from one of those jobs, he could live in  
  
peace on his most stupendous pension - well, there were still all those nasty brats, but one could  
  
deal with them.  
  
He looked up from his drink as a beautiful, voluptuous woman walked in the door. She was  
  
wearing a black dress, a halter, showing off her cleavage (one of her more obvious assets). The  
  
skirt ended in a diagonal line just past her knees, and her calves were nicely shown off by very  
  
high stiletto heels.  
  
She was beautiful. And oddly familiar, in some way. But he couldn't figure it out, and so he just  
  
shoved it aside. He watched as she took a seat at the bar and ordered a frozen margarita, no salt.   
  
She carefully arranged her dress around her legs, and folded her arms in front of her where she  
  
had a tiny bit of a tummy bulge. So she was self conscious. She had no reason to be, really. She  
  
was gorgeous.  
  
He slid off his bar stool, walking to sit right next to her. "It's on my tab, sir," he told the  
  
bartender, and smiled as she blushed prettily. It was dark in the bar, and he couldn't make out her  
  
facial features terribly clearly. "You look dashing, madam, and I thought I might have the honor  
  
of buying your drink."  
  
"Thank you sir," she said softly, blushing more and not meeting his gaze. "It was very kind of  
  
you."  
  
"No, it was kind of you to grace me with your presence. Would you do me one more honor of  
  
dancing with me?"  
  
"Of course," she said, smiling, and gaining more confidence as she allowed herself to be taken out  
  
on the dance floor.  
  
Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh squealed Hermione mentally as she allowed herself to be led  
  
through a salsa. Her dress swirled and swished and she felt like an accomplished Latin dancer. It  
  
was amazing what this man was doing to her. Her stomach was full of butterflies, and her heart  
  
thumped wildly (and it wasn't from all that physical exertion either).  
  
She wondered where it would lead. Would he ask her out? Would anything come of it? Sighing,  
  
she took a sip of her margarita (half-melted by now) as they sat down again.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked, hearing her sigh and seeing her melancholy look.  
  
"Oh, it's nothing...you've just made me feel...I don't know, special again." She sat down  
  
carefully as to not crinkle her skirt. "I haven't been on a date in five years."  
  
He sputtered while drinking his gin and tonic. "Five years? Why five years? You're beautiful.   
  
What gives?"  
  
Hermione smiled ruefully. "While I'm not just ugly, I'm not conventionally pretty. Most fellows  
  
my age want someone who is a size two."  
  
The man rolled his eyes. "Most men at age...how old are you?"  
  
"Twenty-four. Twenty five this September."  
  
"At age twenty-five, most males are quite stupid. They want anything that wears a skirt and don't  
  
give a damn about their ladies' emotions."  
  
"Quite true." Hermione drank a fourth of her margarita in one gulp. "Oh my. I should pace  
  
myself. I don't need to get tipsy. I'm horrible when I'm drunk."  
  
"I don't think a couple of margaritas will hurt."  
  
"You don't know my low tolerance for alcoholic beverages."  
  
"So get a little tipsy. Have fun. Let loose."  
  
Hermione eyed him suspiciously.   
  
"No, I am not one of those psycho men who takes women out back after they've become  
  
inebriated and takes advantage of them."  
  
Hermione drank another huge gulp and sighed. "As much as I shouldn't, I trust you. Mostly, I  
  
feel the need to get drunk and do something incredibly stupid."  
  
He leaned towards her in the dark, a candle a few feet away casting shadows across his face.   
  
"How about we go back to my place, do something incredibly fun and NOT get drunk?"  
  
Hermione teetered on the edge of indecision. This man was incredibly sensuous. He could  
  
probably prove to be some of the best sex ever. Her angel side said she shouldn't. After all, she  
  
didn't even know his name!...But then again, when had she ever been that angelic...?  
  
She grabbed her purse.  
  
Lyrics from Andy Williams' "Moon River". 


	2. The morning after

Moon River  
  
Chapter Two  
  
-  
  
Light. Blistering, white light. Infuriatingly bright white light was searing at her eyelids.   
  
Groaning, Hermione wiped at her eyes, and when she drew her hands away they were covered in  
  
eye makeup.  
  
Now where was she that she could not keep up her regimen of makeup removal, exfoliation and  
  
moisturization?  
  
She sat up quickly, glancing around. She was in a room unfamiliar to her. Large windows gazed  
  
out to the sea, and gauzy white curtains fanned in the breeze. In fact, everything in the room, it  
  
seemed, was blindingly white. The only thing that relieved her eyes was the light, oaken floor and  
  
her black dress, thrown onto the floor in a haphazard heap, her shoes nearby. Oh Gods. Where  
  
were her underwear...? They weren't on her...  
  
Next to her, the man from the bar was sound asleep, softly snoring. Ah....so that's where she  
  
was. Now she remembered. Gods, he was an Adonis. Why had he picked her up at Moon River  
  
last night? His shoulders were broad, and muscular...so that's how he'd been able to pick her up  
  
and throw her into bed last night. She blushed as she remembered.  
  
His back was laced with scars...she wondered what they were from. Gently, she traced them with  
  
the tip of her finger, not knowing that in his slumbered mind, she was curing him of his past. She  
  
ran her fingers through his soft, black, fine hair. It was shiny, probably healthier than her own.  
  
Speaking of her hair...it felt nappy. She felt hot and sweaty and there was a distinct stickiness  
  
between her legs and on her thighs. Ahh. The not-so-joyous afterness of sex. They certainly  
  
didn't tend to cover this part in the novels. Being careful not to wake him, Hermione wrapped  
  
herself up in the sheet, leaving him covered in the feather down coverlet. After carefully climbing  
  
out of the bed, she quietly tiptoed out of the room.   
  
The house was vast. It took her several tries of opening doors and tiptoe-ing around to find the  
  
bathroom. But when she did, was she ever glad. The shower was very, VERY nice...it had seven  
  
different heads at staggered levels, blasting jets of hot water, it seemed, everywhere it was  
  
needed. Using her wand, she conjured up shampoo, conditioner, and soap - just the bare basics.   
  
She was sore, very sore...five years of chastity had reduced her to near-virgin status, or so it  
  
seemed. She didn't feel like casting a pain-relief charm though. The pain, she thought, was kind  
  
of a reminder of her erotic frolics.  
  
She giggled. Last night...what she remembered anyhow...was mind-blowing. It was far different  
  
from the dutiful sex she'd offered to Ron. It was sensuous, multiple-orgasms sex. And she didn't  
  
even know his name.  
  
You wanted excitement, Hermione Granger, she thought. And excitement was certainly what you  
  
got, girl!  
  
---  
  
After showering, Hermione went back into the bedroom, still wrapped in the sheet, to seek out  
  
her mysterious lover. However, she found he wasn't there. One of his button-up shirts lay on the  
  
bed, along with a pair of his trousers. A note. "Put this on. I doubt you want to parade around  
  
in an evening dress."  
  
Smiling, she slipped on the shirt, and then put on the trousers. They fit her rather nice, she  
  
thought, giggling at the sight of herself in the mirror. The pants were far too long, trailing the  
  
floor, and she stepped on them when she walked. The shirt's arms went past her fingertips, and  
  
pulled tight across her bust.   
  
"Hello?" she called, stepping out into the hall. Her voice echoed.  
  
"Down here! First right at the bottom of the stairs, my dear."  
  
"All right," she called back, beginning to descend the stairs. She was slightly nervous about  
  
seeing him for the first time after their night of passion. It had to happen sometime, though. She  
  
was famished, and beginning to get light-headed. When had she last eaten...? Had she eaten at all  
  
yesterday?   
  
Why was the staircase moving?  
  
She blacked out and fell down the last four steps.  
  
---  
  
Hearing her tumble down the stairs, the man she had spent the night with came running out of the  
  
dining room. "Oh no," he groaned. He ran to her, checking her for any obvious signs of injuries.   
  
Finding none, he concluded she had fainted. Conjuring up a cold, damp washcloth, he began to  
  
wipe her brow, hoping to revive her.  
  
He had begun to feel slightly nervous when he suddenly heard a distinct moan escape her lips. He  
  
breathed a sigh of relief. One thing he certainly did not want was a terribly injured young woman  
  
on his hands.   
  
Laying the washcloth across her brow, he stroked her hair. "Wake, my dear. You've had a fall."  
  
"I what?" she moaned, her eyes still closed. "Oh, man. My bum hurts."  
  
The man softly chuckled. "You haven't sprained your ankle, like the women do in the books?"  
  
"No, I think I just have a large bruise on my arse."  
  
They both had a good laugh over this. She sighed, opening her eyes, to stare at the high, templed  
  
ceiling. "This is so beautiful. I'm not sure when I've ever felt more at peace." She looked at him  
  
directly now. "I..." She stopped suddenly.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked, looking at her, concerned.  
  
"Who...who...who are you?" She stuttered, quickly buttoning up her shirt to her neck.  
  
"Is that important?" he asked, nuzzling her neck.   
  
She quickly pushed him off. "Do you know who I am?"  
  
"A most adept lover?"  
  
"No." she said flatly. "I am Hermione Granger, former Head Girl at Hogwarts School of  
  
Witchcraft and Wizardry. I currently own my own business. And you, sir, are Severus Snape,  
  
Potions Master and Deputy Headmaster at the same school I attended."  
  
He sat and stared with his eyes wide.  
  
"And now..." she said carefully, "I think I should collect my things and take my leave."  
  
---  
  
A/N - will he let her leave, or beg her to stay, or something else? ...dun dun dun... review!  
  
-Alicia Jennings, who graduates THIS SUNDAY  
  
PS I don't know what's up with the format...I hope this chapter is better than the last. 


	3. This complicates things a bit

Moon River  
  
Chapter Three  
  
-  
  
Hermione stood quickly, trying to recover, but still feeling very dizzy. Grabbing her wand, she cast a wellness charm on herself to raise her blood sugar from it's sinking levels. Feeling much better physically, she then ran up the stairs to grab her meager posessions she had with her.  
  
"Hermione! Miss Granger!" Snape yelled. "Please wait!"  
  
Hermione ran into the bedroom, grabbing her things, and slipped into the hall, where she met him face-to-face. "What, Snape? I just had sex with a professor who loathed, HATED me in my school days! You made my life a living HELL!"  
  
"And I apologize! I am a changed man, Hermione Granger!" He grabbed her shoulders. "Please, please, hear me out!"  
  
She adjusted her things in her arms. "Severus Snape, I have nothing to say to you. Thank you for last night, but I want to leave now. Please. Let me go."  
  
He dropped his arms, releasing her from his grip. "I can't make you stay," he said softly.  
  
"I'm sorry," she whispered.   
  
Then she ran.  
  
Severus groaned. Once again, he was letting one of the greatest things to happen to him get away. And he had no way of even contacting her.  
  
-----  
  
Hermione kept running. The house was set at the end of a long country road. She ran and ran until she came to the main road, knowing full well she could call the Knight Bus, but wanted to expend some energy.  
  
"Why?" she moaned, gasping for breath. "Why why why...?"  
  
Why had she been so stupid? She was not the kind of girl who did things like this normally! She didn't even drink much, for God's sake! So in one night, she managed to get rip-roaringly drunk AND sleep with a former professor.  
  
Good God.  
  
This sounded like a cheap romance novel.  
  
Shaking her head and fumbling for her wand, Hermione called the Knight Bus to take her back to what she knew - her humble flat that she lived in by herself, other than her cat Speedy (Crookshanks had passed two years ago). She would go back to her cooking-for-one, her non-alcoholic beverages, and her Friday nights reading research texts on Muggle geneology testing.  
  
No more Moon River, she told herself. No more. She was done with that. She didn't need a man. All she needed was herself.  
  
-----  
  
Month and a half later---  
  
-----  
  
Severus Snape was back to teaching boring Potions classes to dull-headed Hogwarts students. After his bout with Hermione, he had gone back to being his usual, testy self. Clyde Smithers had borne the brunt of his anger this morning when he had melted his eleventh cauldron, Neville-style, with potion creeping along the floor that dissolved people's shoes.  
  
The plus side of that potion is that it had scoured the floors of Clyde's ultra-sticky potion he had spilled last week.  
  
Now the class was sitting quietly, their shoes repaired, writing essays over the results of their brews. He sat with a book in front of him, but his eyes were unseeing. Even though the ten most deadly potions were described in front of him, all he could think of was how soft her hair was, how sensual she had been in her lovemaking, and how her eyes had filled with tears as she ran out of his country home.  
  
He slammed his book shut. "Everyone out. Just leave."  
  
"Sir..."  
  
"But it's not time..."  
  
Severus fixed them with a steely gaze. "What did I just tell you? I...said...to...get...OUT!!!!! SO GET OUT NOW!"  
  
They hurriedly grabbed their belongings, racing out of the classroom. Even Smithers, who usually dawdled, was out the door in record time. Snape let his head fall into his hands. God he missed her. He had to try and see her again. He had to. She had infected his senses...She had wormed her way into his very soul. He chided himself for not being more distant - for letting himself get close enough to hurt.  
  
Snape stood, feeling an ache in his joints that used to not be quite so pronounced. Well, he supposed, this must be what it feels like to be in your forties.   
  
"I'm getting old, aren't I, Noir?" He stroked his magically-colored black owl. "And yet, I still have never really found love. Silly thing that it is anyway. No, there is no love...Just a complex balance of chemicals in our brains..."  
  
The owl hooted.  
  
"You agree?" Snape walked away, back to his desk to draw out some parchment, some ink, and a quill. "Yet...maybe we should have this complex balance at some point in our lives, hmm?"  
  
He began to write.  
  
-----  
  
Hermione looked striking in a cream-colored pantsuit, except for the fact her face looked ashen. She'd been sick for the past week or so. Now she felt light-headed and nauscious. It couldn't be her blood sugar, she'd had toast and orange juice this morning...Then she realized that "this morning" had been eleven hours ago.  
  
She paged her secretary. "Cat? Sorry to bother you, but could you maybe order me some lunch?"  
  
"Let me guess. Blood sugar? When did you last eat?"  
  
"This morning?" she said sheepishly.   
  
"It's three o' clock, Hermione."  
  
"Which means Foo Yung's will be done with the lunch rush! C'mon, I think some beef with broccoli and some chicken lo mein. We'll split it. I know all you've had is a bagel with cream cheese for lunch."  
  
"Oh, fine. But we're getting some crab rangoons as well." Cat hung up.  
  
Hermione smiled. She loved Cat. She was definitely her best friend. Cat had graduated two years behind Hermione in school, out of Ravenclaw house. She had been very intelligent, becoming a Prefect in her fifth year, Head Girl her seventh. She could've done anything, but she came to work for Hermione. Cat had been a Muggle-born child that had been adopted into the wizarding world, and wanted to help others like herself.   
  
Hermione stood, feeling dizzy again. What was up with this? Why was she so ill? After lunch, she'd make an appointment with her physician. This was just too much to write off as nothing. It was probably stress-related, but maybe he could just prescribe some Pepper-Up and be done.  
  
"Hermione?" Cat knocked on her office door. "Hermione, post for you."  
  
"All right, bring it in."   
  
Cat opened the door, holding in her hands a scroll of parchment bound by a Slytherin-green ribbon. There was bold, black scrawl on it, depicting her name.  
  
"Thank you, Cat," Hermione said faintly, accepting the parchment. Perceiving that her boss needed some alone time, Cat left the room. Trying to control the shaking of her hands, Hermione opened the letter.  
  
Miss Granger,  
  
I write this letter with humble countenance, as I wish for you to respond. I want to see you again. Please, I beg of you, reply to this correspondance. We will start anew, and try to forget out last encounter.  
  
Most Sincerely Yours,  
  
S. Snape  
  
Hermione grabbed pen and paper, as she had never quite gotten used to quills and parchment.  
  
Professor Snape,  
  
It is hard for me to "start anew", as you so called it, when what I picture of you now is not us making sweet love, but you sneering at me when I was a young girl, saying "I see no difference." It will take a lot to get over all of your cruelties you pushed on us when my classmates and I were younger.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Hermione E. Granger  
  
Hermione rolled up the letter, tied it to her owl Gweneth's leg, and sent her on her merry way. The telltale smells of Chinese food told her she'd been pondering over her letter for a while, and she exited her office for a late lunch with Cat.  
  
-----  
  
Hours Later-  
  
Snape was pounding his head on his desk, wondering why he had to have been such a prick. He'd heard that girls liked sensitive guys...why'd he have to be so insensitive?  
  
He picked up his quill and began to write once more.  
  
-----  
  
"Miss Granger? I see you're here with us again. Is your back bothering you again?"  
  
"No, Doctor White...I'm really not sure what's wrong with me. I've been feeling so nausceous and dizzy all the time though, for about a week. I thought it was my blood sugar, but I don't think that's it."  
  
"Hmm." The physician furrowed his brows, looking at her chart. "Well, I'm going to send you off for some testing in our lab, all right? I'll meet you back here in an hour."  
  
Hermione grabbed her purse, smiling at him. "Thank you."  
  
Y'know, he's kind of cute...and single...hmm hmm hmm... Hermione thought this as she was being cast with all sorts of diagnostic spells later on in the lab. I should've done some research before I came here. Some of these spells might be dangerous in high levels...but back to Dr. White. Cute, single, he's a DOCTOR, he'd probably be really fun on dates... Hermione smiled, she couldn't help herself.  
  
"What's so funny, miss?" asked one of the nurses.  
  
Hermione snapped out of her daydream. "Oh, funny joke I heard this morning. About an elf, a wizard, and a banshee who all go into a bar..."  
  
"Okay miss," said the nurse hurriedly. "Well, for a minute I thought you might be thinking about our Doctor White. Just thought I should tell you...before you went flinging yourself his way..."  
  
Ignoring the "flinging yourself" comment, Hermione leaned toward the nurse. "What?"  
  
"Well," the nurse began, "He...er...swings a different way."  
  
Hermione gasped. "He's gay?!"  
  
"Mmm-hmm. Mum's the word though."  
  
"Don't worry," Hermione told her.  
  
Damn my Gaydar. Damn my Gaydar...to the seventh level of Hell...  
  
It seemed as if her luck with men was rapidly - very rapidly - deterriorating.  
  
-----  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Hermione was back in the exam room with Dr. White, feeling slightly less giddy and giggly now that she knew he was most definitely unavailable. He was looking at her chart, assessing all of her diagnostic tests.  
  
"Well?" she finally voiced. "What's wrong with me?"  
  
"For one, you're very dehydrated. How much water do you drink a day?"  
  
Sheepishly, Hermione shrugged her shoulders.  
  
"You'll need to spend a couple of days in the hospital, getting re-hydrated. If you continue on this path, you could become very seriously ill."  
  
"Yes, sir," said Hermione. "Is there anything else?"  
  
"Yes, there is," said Dr. White, looking slightly uncomfortable.   
  
Hermione sat, watching him try to grasp the words. "Come, Dr. White, out with it. Am I dead and/or dying from cancer? Hmm?"  
  
"No, no, nothing like that...It's just..." He paused, looking up at her, biting his lip.  
  
"You're pregnant, Miss Granger."  
  
----  
  
A/N - Bwahaha...cliffy! Thanks to all of you who reviewed!!! Esp. Lightning BUG! I 3 you!!!!!!  
  
REVIEW!  
  
Alicia/Jaimes 


	4. The mother of his children? oh no

Moon River  
  
Chapter Four  
  
-  
  
By your ever-so-not-having-a-life author, Alicia/Jaimes :)  
  
-  
  
Two days after her doctor's appointment -  
  
Professor Snape,  
  
I thank you for your last correspondence. I agree with your statement...what was it you said? "At times I can be an insensitive blockhead, and I understand if you wanted to hex off my manhood while you were my student."   
  
We need to meet to discuss something very important. Please meet me at my home (411 Winchester, London) at 7:30 tonight.   
  
Sincerely,  
  
Hermione E. Granger  
  
Miss Granger,  
  
I will be there. Allow me to bring dinner?  
  
Sincerely, S. Snape  
  
Professor Snape,  
  
I would be most appreciative. I'll cover desert. Just no alcohol, okay?  
  
Hermione E. Granger  
  
Hermione was greatful for his offer to bring dinner. After two days in the hospital, she was feeling better than she did before, but still was slightly dizzy from time to time. Making dinner would have been difficult. She supposed that the dizzy feeling was not because of her dehydration, but because of the baby.  
  
She paused in the midst of mixing cake batter to lay a hand on her tummy. She couldn't really tell a difference, but she still knew there was a tiny life in there. Was she ready for this? No. She knew that much. But she had seven and a half months to get ready, she supposed.  
  
She hadn't had much time to think - while hospitalized she hadn't done much more than sleep, truth be told. While she felt much better physically, her mental state was in turmoil. What would Snape think? Would he want anything to do with this child? Would he want her to abort it? Would he want full custody?  
  
Too much thinking, not enough mixing... She began mixing the cake in earnest now.   
  
Oh Gods. What am I going to tell my boys...? What will Harry and Ron think? The two of them had abhorred Snape in school...for that matter, she had too. His snide remarks, his impossible assignments...And now she was having his child. Oh God. What if her child was just as snide and snippy as he was?   
  
Must...concentrate...on...present...task! She finished mixing up the cake - a very simple homemade chocolate cake, to be iced with chocolate icing she'd made earlier - and put it in the oven to bake. Soon her house smelled like chocolate, making it seem even homier than she thought possible. While she loved her home, sometimes it didn't seem real...it didn't seem like it was really hers. It was always clean and pristine, and it reminded her of a showroom. There was nothing terribly personal, except for a few elegantly framed photos of herself, Harry, and Ron.   
  
How personal would this all look with baby toys strewn about? How personal would it be when that baby began to walk and crawl and pull breakable things down off of tables and shelves?  
  
Hermione looked at the clock...How did it get to be six o clock? She ran upstairs to get ready.  
  
-----  
  
After a hot shower, some quick hair-drying, and a lot of lotion (she'd heard about how if you put on lots of lotion, it prevented stretch marks, so she was starting early) she felt about as ready to meet Severus Snape and tell him she was bearing his child as a mouse was ready to meet its' death by being ripped apart by a cat.  
  
She pondered over exactly what to say while arranging her hair back away from her face with some tortoiseshell clips her mother had left her.  
  
"Lovely weather, isn't it? I wonder what it will be like next year, this time, with the baby and all. Oh, didn't I tell you?"  
  
"Did you not think to use a contraceptive spell? Or were you too busy enjoying it?"  
  
"You mean you've still got it at...how old are you now?"  
  
She'd never been gifted with words, she mused, frowning as one lone tendril struggled out of her coif. Her hair could never be perfect. Then again, nothing about her was perfect, really. Her now even more rapidly expanding waistline, for one. Her hair, somewhere between curly and wavy (she'd blown it out straight for tonight) for another.   
  
So what, exactly, do I do correctly? Hermione thought to herself, applying thin layers of powder, blush, and brown hues of eyeshadow, along with a bit of eyeliner and mascara. Just as she was putting on her clothes, the doorbell rang.  
  
"Be right down," she called. She wore a black tank top underneath a white throwover shawl, along with white-with-black-pinstripes pants, and what looked like very, very painful stiletto heels. She grabbed at the first pair of earrings she saw - black bead chadelliers - and put them in as she was walking/running/jumping (though not for excitement) down the stairs.  
  
"Severus." She greeted him warmly, even though she would have just as soon have wished she was screaming at him for not being experienced with condoms. "Do come in."  
  
"Thank you, it's beginning to rain out there..." Snape set down a large covered basket to remove his jacket. Hermione helped him out of it and hung it in the foyer. Still attempting polite conversation (very uncharacteristic of Snape, of course), he glanced around his surroundings. "You have a beautiful home, Hermione."  
  
"Well, thank you," said a flattered Hermione. "I'm glad you like it," she said then, genuinely. "Now, I have a cake in the oven I must take out, accompany me to the kitchen?"  
  
"Certainly," he said, taking her arm and letting her lead him around the spacious house. "What sort of cake is this?"  
  
"Oh, just chocolate from scratch. Sorry, I've been rather ill, as of late, and I kept it simple." Hermione grinned at him apologetically.  
  
"On the contrary, Miss Granger," said Snape smoothly, "I happen to love chocolate cake. But only, and only, with chocolate icing."  
  
"Then you're in luck," she said, smiling. She took the cake out of the oven and set it on a rack to cool, so she could later ice it.   
  
"Would you like to eat dinner now, and talk later, or talk now?" Snape conjured the food-laden basket and set it on the table, and drew out a chair for her. She sat gratefully. All of her baking and preparing herself for his arrival had worn her out. "It is up to you, Hermione."  
  
"May we talk now?" she pleaded. "I know we may not be in the mood for eats afterward, but...but I feel as if I don't talk now, I won't have the nerve to tell you."  
  
"Tell me what?" Snape took her hand. "Hermione, you can tell me anything. I swear, I won't abandon you or leave you alone. And I won't go blabbing it around to the world like Potter and Weasley sometimes are prone to do."  
  
Hermione laughed weakly. "Sometimes, you have those two to a T."   
  
Snape smiled. "I've been teaching a good many years, my dear. I observe you students from the time you get off that train to the time you board the Hogwarts Express for the last time...I know each and every one of you." He grew more serious. "Hermione, please. Please tell me what's wrong."  
  
Hermione's eyes were starting to get liquidy. Her chin wobbled, and when she spoke, her voice was gravelly with sorrow. "I'm trying. I'm really trying, and I want to, but...but..."  
  
"But what, Hermione?"  
  
"It involves you too," she got out in a rush, before tears spilled over. "I'm...I'm...I'm..."  
  
"Miss Granger..."  
  
"I'm pregnant, Severus."  
  
Hermione began sobbing in earnest now. She laid her head in her arms, which rested on the table, and let out all her pent-up emotions. It was as if she had tapped into a never-ending river of sorrow, grief, and even anger. So sure was she that Severus would leave that she jumped when he pulled her into his arms. Quickly though, she relaxed, and sobbed with relief that he wasn't leaving - at least not yet.  
  
-----  
  
My God. What could I have been thinking? Granted I haven't had sex in many years, but surely I could have remembered to cast a contraceptive spell... Severus wanted to bang his head on the table in frustration, but he didn't, knowing it would upset Hermione. He smoothed her hair, trying to comfort her as he held her in his lap.   
  
Soon, her sobs quieted, and she wiped at her eyes with a handkerchief he had given her. "Oh, Gods...my head hurts..." She dabbed at her eyes. "I'm sorry..."  
  
"Hermione, shh. It's all right," He took the handkerchief from her, dabbing at her cheeks to try and erase the tears. "Are you all right? Can we talk about this?"  
  
Sniffing, she nodded. He pulled her closer, trying to reassure her he wasn't upset. "How do you feel about this baby, Hermione? Do you want to keep it?"  
  
Hermione gasped. "I can't abort it. No no no. I just can't."  
  
"What about adoption?"  
  
Hermione shook her head. "I'd...I'd rather not. I don't trust anyone else to raise my child."  
  
Severus nodded. "All right then. Have you been seeing anyone as of late? Romantically?"  
  
She gave him a deadly look.  
  
He intook breath sharply. "I'll take that as a no..."  
  
"Most definitely."  
  
Snape sighed. "My point was going to be, Miss Granger, that unwed mothers are not looked upon highly in the wizarding world. You may very well lose your business."  
  
Hermione gasped. "It's to that magnitude?"  
  
"I'm afraid so," said Snape grimly.   
  
Hermione rubbed her temples, trying to erase her headache. "It's a chance I have to take."  
  
"Well..." began Snape..."Not necessarilly..."  
  
-----  
  
Sorry, short chappie. Seemed like a good place to stop.  
  
Review! Oh, and The Dark's Mistress is now finished, if you'd like to read. Enjoy!  
  
Love Alicia/Jaimes 


	5. The best thing for everyone is nothing a...

Moon River  
  
Chapter Five  
  
By Alicia Jennings  
  
-  
  
Lost somewhere between love and lonely...  
  
-  
  
"Severus." Hermione interrupted him before he could say what she knew he was going to say. "I can't marry you."  
  
"Why not?" he asked nonchalantly. "I can provide you with things witches your age dream of. I'm a member of the aristocracy. I'd give you a stable environement."  
  
Hermione sighed. His words sounded cold, but she knew that for him, those were things that he considered came from the heart. "That's not what I want in a marriage, Severus. I want a wedding fit for a princess and a big, overdone cake. I want a husband who loves me more than life itself. I want a husband who wants to be married to me, and isn't just married to me because we're having a baby together."  
  
Severus wound his arms tight around her. "Hermione, you can't afford that luxury. Life has dealt you a card that you can't get rid of. Now you just have to work with it."  
  
Hermione's eyes filled up, and she fidgeted in Severus' lap, twisting the ring Harry had given her on her 21st birthday - a nervous habit she'd developed. She thought about his words. Maybe he was right. Maybe she should just go with this.  
  
NO! she thought. Some may think this is best for the baby, but it's not! To be trapped in a house with two people who don't love one another? I can't think of anything worse!  
  
She slid off his lap with firm decision.  
  
-----  
  
Snape was back in his office, drinking what seemed to be his fifth glass of wine. Gods. What a night. He wanted nothing more than to just forget it. But he knew it would always be there, somewhere, lingering in the back of his mind, no matter how many glasses of wine she drank.  
  
"Severus?" came a voice from the fireplace. "Severus, my dear boy, are you all right?"  
  
"Albus," Severus acknowledged. "Enjoying your retirement in Cancun, I suppose."  
  
"Not entirely," said the old, wizened wizard, stepping out of a fireplace full of green flames. "I keep coming back here to straighten you people's problems out." He brushed soot off of brightly colored robes with hibiscus flowers and green leaves all over them - the wizard's answer to tropical vacation wear.  
  
Snape looked at the robes with horror. "Those robes are atrocious, Albus."  
  
Dumbledore looked down at himself, taking in the peculiar robes and the orange flip-flops adorning his feet. "Really? I thought they were rather nice myself."  
  
Snape tipped back his wineglass, not particularly knowing or caring about what to say next to the man.   
  
Albus sighed, sitting opposite to Severus and conjuring up some tea. "Severus...you just can't expect Miss Granger to accept a proposal just like that. She might be with child, but that doesn't mean she has to accept your hand in marriage."  
  
Snape drained his wineglass. "How do you know these things?"  
  
"Oh, my boy, I have my sources." His eyes twinkled as he sipped his tea. "I promise, there are no magical eyes in the back of my head."  
  
"Damned souces. Can't even let a man have his dignity around here." He started to reach for the bottle of wine, but Albus caught his hand and pulled it away.  
  
"No, no, Severus. You'll already have a massive hangover in the morning. No more adding to it." With a wave of his hand, Snape soon had a cup of tea in front of him. "Best to drink that stuff instead."  
  
Reluctantly, Snape took a sip, only to spit it back out. "What is this? It tastes like tar."  
  
"It's chai tea! Do you not like it?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Well, then..." Albus waved his hand and the cup disappeared, looking a little dissapointed. "To the point. You must woo the young lady, Severus."  
  
" 'Woo' her?"  
  
Dumbledore set down his cup, slightly irritably. He drew a rose out of his front pocket. "What is this, Severus?"  
  
"A yellow rose..."  
  
"Right. Yellow stands for love. Red is passion, not love. Don't go sending those. I daresay you've had enough passion for a while."  
  
Snape nodded dumbly.  
  
"Send her two dozen yellow roses tomorrow. First thing. Make sure that she gets them at work tomorrow morning. And then...." He conjured up a candle.  
  
"Promise a candlelight dinner the next night."  
  
Snape took the candle, examining it. "Why do I let you run my dating life?"  
  
"Because," said Dumbledore, sipping his tea, "You won't take charge of it yourself. Yet."  
  
-----  
  
The morning after the "talk", Hermione dragged herself into work looking haggard and worn. Her hair was limp, her makeup half-done and there were dark circles under her eyes she hadn't even bothered to conceal.   
  
"Hermione!" Cat looked at her friend with concern. "Is anything wrong?"  
  
"Do we have any clients this morning?"  
  
Cat returned to her desk, shuffling through the appointment book. "None till two. Why?"  
  
"Come in my office...We need to talk." Cat wordlessly followed Hermione into her office. Hermione plunked her briefcase down, set her laptop case down on the desk, and threw herself into her chair.  
  
"Cat?"  
  
"Yes, Hermione?"  
  
"I'm pregnant."  
  
Cat blinked.   
  
"Did you hear me? I'm preggers. With child. Mother-to-be -"  
  
"I heard, I heard," Cat interrupted. "With whose baby? You don't even have a boyfriend!"  
  
"Er, that's the part that's the problem."   
  
"No, really," Cat said sarcastically. "Come on, out with it! Who've you been in bed with?"  
  
"Well, you have to remember...that I was really, really drunk at the time. Really drunk. Horrendously drunk."  
  
"Yes...?"   
  
Hermione took a deep breath and continued. "I met this guy at that club I was at...Moon River. I didn't know who he was at the time. We danced...and oh GODS ABOVE could he dance, Cat...and we had some drinks, and went back to his place and...well..."  
  
"YES?"  
  
"Well we had some more drinks...and then..."  
  
"YES?"  
  
"Magically ended up in bed?" Hermione finished up lamely, watching Cat pace.  
  
"I don't believe this..." Cat threw her hands up in the air. "Did neither of you think to use protection?"  
  
"Er...we were really drunk..."  
  
"And how can you be so calm?" Cat demanded. "I'm freaking out. How can you be so calm?"  
  
"I have to stay calm," said Hermione, smoothing her suit and reached for her coffee mug. Cat reached to grab it, and Hermione handed it to her, exasperated. "It's orange juice Cat, I know better than to drink caffienated beverages, you know!"  
  
Cat sighed. "I'm sorry. It's just that I'm your friend, and I'm concerned for you. Unwed mothers in the wizarding world are highly frowned upon."  
  
"That's what he said too." Hermione sipped at her juice. "Gods, this is sour."  
  
"Wait. That's one thing I haven't gotten. Who's he?"  
  
Hermione set her mug down. "Severus Snape, Professor of Potions at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."  
  
Cat shrieked.  
  
Hermione groaned. "Well, I did have eardrums -"  
  
"Snape? SNAPE is the father of your child? You're carrying a SNAPE?!"  
  
"He's not all that bad, you know," Hermione retorted. "He's good at the tango...vertically AND horizontally."  
  
Cat looked as if she was going to be sick. Hermione was saved from trying to say something to make her feel better by the front door opening. Cat left the office to recieve the visitor, and Hermione took the time to magic on some makeup (the Muggle way looked better, but no time) and she twisted her hair into a bun.  
  
"Yes, she's in there. Just go right in." Catherine seemed thouroughly freaked. And Hermione soon found out why.  
  
A beaming delivery boy walked into her office, bearing a burdon of two dozen yellow roses, set in a beautiful glass vase, and a scroll with Severus' seal.  
  
-----  
  
A/N -   
  
I'm sorry this is so short. It's very hard for me to write anything in terms of vaguely romantic right now. My boyfriend and I - we'd been dating eight months and were promised - just broke up...so I'm going through a pretty difficult time right now. I was very upset after it initially, but I'm beginning to get better. It's just very hard for me to write right now. But I will try. I may draw on some of it, actually, for this story. And I'm using the characters of my best friends Cat and Katelyn for Hermione's moral support system. :) They're two lovely young women! So if they ever read this...not likely as Katelyn's not an HP fan...and Cat is but she has no Internet anymore...oh well.   
  
Much love, Alicia/Jaimes 


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